


Harlequin Rose

by frozenCinders



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 20:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15008414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenCinders/pseuds/frozenCinders
Summary: Shuuhei has been fantasizing about letting Kensei's inner hollow have him for months until he finally asks. Once he's actually in the thick of things, he can't decide whether it's good or bad that he can only maintain the mask for five minutes.





	Harlequin Rose

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"... Are you really?"

"Yes, I've been wanting this for months."

A tense pause ensues.

"You're absolutely certain?"

"Yes! My answer isn't going to change, no matter how many times you ask!"

Another pause before Kensei sighs.

"You know, I can only maintain it for five minutes," he mumbles.

"That's fine, we can make it work," Shuuhei says immediately. Maybe it's better on a short time limit. "Please, I just- I need to stop fantasizing about this already. It's driving me crazy. If I don't like it, that's fine too. At least I'll know. But fuck, I wanna try it so bad..."

The look on Kensei's face is dark, and it's not just the fault of the lighting. It's like his eyes are looking through Shuuhei. Is he talking to his hollow or something? Can he do that?

"It's gonna start out normal," he says, the look in his eyes not really changing but Shuuhei interprets it differently now, like Kensei is sizing him up. "I'll give you ample warning before I put the mask on."

"Alright," Shuuhei agrees, "but I don't want you to hold back once it's on."

"You've gotta be fucking-"

"I can handle it! Even if I can't, I'm sure a trip to the 4th Division will fix me right up. I promise, it's fine if I get injured," he assures.

"S'not fuckin' fine," Kensei mutters under his breath, but then he waves his hand dismissively with a sigh. "Alright. You want it that bad? Your fucking funeral, kid."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Shuuhei recognizes that as a threat, recognizes the situation as a terrifying predicament even if he did ask for it, but he can only feel excited for what's about to happen. Kensei steps forward and lightly tugs at Shuuhei's clothes, in the way he does when he'd rather Shuuhei take them off himself. He strips and sits on the bed, watching Kensei take his time pulling his own uniform off, like he's buying himself time for something-- or just distracted.

When he sets upon Shuuhei, he silently pushes him down onto the mattress and promptly buries his face in Shuuhei's neck. He always seems to like breathing him in, frequently nosing at his neck and his chest. He wonders if it's Kensei who likes his scent or if it's the hollow's instincts urging him to do that. The thought of the distinction, or lack thereof, sends a slight shudder through him.

Kensei kisses at his neck to start, gentler than usual. His touches are feather-light to the point of tickling and Shuuhei instinctively brings his shoulders together, enjoying the feeling of Kensei prying them away from his neck. That's the only force he uses for the moment; his hands softly graze Shuuhei's body as they travel, stopping at his waist to wrap his arms around him and pull Shuuhei off the bed as he holds him close. Kensei's not worried he's going to kill him, is he?

"You really wanna be dominated that bad?" he asks, his lips ghosting against the skin behind Shuuhei's ear. "You want to surrender everything to me?"

Shuuhei suddenly can't find his words; just swallows and nods enthusiastically. Soon, that voice will be distorted and those eyes will go dark in an entirely different way. Shuuhei knows fear will grip him in that moment, but there are worse things in life.

"When I put the mask on, the hollow's voice is gonna get loud. You want me to listen to it?"

Again, Shuuhei nods.

"I've already told you before: it wants me to break you," Kensei warns. It takes Shuuhei a few seconds, but he finds his voice.

"I want you to," he whispers, his own words contributing to his arousal. He has to be fully hard by now just from anticipation. Kensei hasn't even touched him yet.

Still inscrutable, Kensei doesn't break eye contact as he retrieves the lubricant from the nightstand drawer. He places it into Shuuhei's hand and steps back to give him room to work, but not so far that he can't hold Shuuhei's legs while he watches him.

With Kensei holding his legs apart, Shuuhei trails a slick hand down his body, encouraged to take things slow from Kensei's own pace. He works himself open, all the while feeling pinned by the firm gaze above him. He grazes his prostate a few times but actually goes out of his way to avoid it for the most part, causing anticipation to build as his body gets impatient.

Eventually, Shuuhei withdraws his fingers and takes a deep breath as Kensei steps back into his place and slowly pushes into him.

"I'm about to put the mask on," Kensei tells him as he settles inside of him. "It's gonna be fast and hard. You ready?"

Anxiety creeps in from his sides and grips Shuuhei's heart and he has to put a hand on Kensei's chest, whispering for him to wait. Kensei's eyes soften for the first time that night and he stands up straight, giving Shuuhei space to breathe, making him feel less pinned. He rubs slow, soothing trails along Shuuhei's thigh. He's being much more patient than usual, no doubt hyper-aware of the danger involved, especially if Shuuhei starts panicking. He forces himself not to think about the hollow as a separate entity, an unpredictable third party, and chooses to see it as a fully controllable facet of Kensei, just like his voice or his arms. With a shaky breath, Shuuhei lets his hand fall back to the bed and nods.

A white mask materializes over Kensei's face, covering it completely aside from six thin slits. He raises it to reveal his face and Shuuhei's breath catches in his throat at the sight of him. All things considered, he barely changed in appearance, but those eyes are a true gold now, drowning amongst black sclera. Shuuhei's pulse quickens enough for him to actually notice it, and he can't help the admittedly fearful noise that escapes him when Kensei leans down to bite him-- did his teeth get sharper or is Shuuhei imagining that?

He doesn't let go, just keeps his teeth anchored painfully in Shuuhei's throat as he starts fucking him just as harshly as he'd warned he would. His hands grip Shuuhei's wrists tightly and bring them together above his head, shifting to hold them there one-handed.

When Kensei pulls away, there's blood smeared around his lips, and he licks it off like it's nothing before sliding the mask back down and gripping Shuuhei's leg with his free hand. Shuuhei should be terrified-- and really, he is-- but somehow, he finds it incredibly arousing. He gasps and moans, back already beginning to arch, and Kensei growls, watery and echoing.

The pace is harsh, almost too rough; it feels _amazing_  but Shuuhei can't help worrying with each thrust that the next will hurt. He stutters out Kensei's name and earns a louder growl and a harsher grip until the hand on his leg moves-- oh fuck, that left a mark that makes Shuuhei's cock twitch-- and settles on his hip instead. His legs both free now, Shuuhei intends to wrap them around Kensei as he usually does, but finds he can hardly control them. They just move with the rest of his body as he's helplessly fucked, and the absolute lack of control hits Shuuhei harder and _much_  sweeter than he expected.

He tilts his head back and feels his throat going raw from his own noises. Kensei leans down and Shuuhei expects him to bite, but his mask is still in place. His blood smears on it as Kensei practically nuzzles him, stinging the wound on his neck with the contact.

"You're mine," he hisses, barely discernable among the distortion.

It's a phrase Shuuhei has heard dozens of times out of Kensei, always lovingly whispered during pillow talk or groaned into his ear during sex. But this feels different; more powerful, more genuine and _undeniable_. Shuuhei's back arches as much as it can with Kensei holding him down with a death grip and _fuck_ , that's good--

Kensei still doesn't touch him when Shuuhei comes; doesn't even slow his pace, just makes a sound too distorted for Shuuhei to even identify as his mind practically whites out. He can't close his eyes-- they're too drawn to Kensei's mask, bone white spattered with dark red blood stains as he pulls back to stare Shuuhei down. He's wracked with a shiver under that gaze, knowing what's lurking under that mask, and his muscles are so tense they threaten to cramp.

Then, suddenly, Kensei's mask breaks right off his face, startling Shuuhei as the shards land harmlessly on his abdomen before disappearing altogether. Kensei's gaze stays on him and his pace slows down until he's completely still. His grip loosens, his hands just softly holding Shuuhei now. When he moves them to the bed, freeing him completely, Shuuhei doesn't move his hands from where they are. With a painful twitch, he realizes some of the bones in his hands have almost certainly been fractured; his proximal rows in particular. He also belatedly notices liquid cooling on his face and surmises that they're tears.

While Shuuhei calms down and digests everything that just happened, Kensei is already hastily dressing himself. It can't be longer than a minute before Kensei wraps a blanket around Shuuhei and picks him up. Shuuhei allows it without complaint until he realizes he's being carried out of his apartment.

"Wait, where are you taking me?" he asks, silently wishing he was in any shape to get dressed within Kensei's level of patience.

"4th Division, where else?"


End file.
